Fool Me Once
by Maeve of Winter
Summary: Still struggling after his failed relationship with June, Rick is less than welcoming when Harley Quinn returns to the team. Rick/Harley.
1. Chapter 1

For his part, Rick was unsurprised when Harley broke out of Belle Reve. The woman was many things, but never one to fall in line. As for the Joker being alive, well, that bastard never seemed to stay dead. It was probably too much to hope that he met a fiery end in that helicopter crash.

Waller was extremely unconcerned about Harley's escape. "Don't worry. She won't stay away long."

"You're awfully cavalier about one of your agents breaking out of prison," Rick commented. "Especially considering you were willing to cut your losses by executing Quinn in the field."

"Quinn has valuable attributes that would make it worth our while to accept her again." Waller informed him. "However, if she doesn't return, then good riddance. She was hardly cooperative during the initial mission, though I suppose it did become significantly derailed." She fixed Rick with a cold gaze, as if the entire disaster in Midway City was on his shoulders, and she herself played no part in it.

He ignored the underlying jibe, refusing to let her passive-aggressiveness rattle him. "But you think she'll return. Why? What could her motivation possibly be, now that she has her freedom?"

"Because she came back to the team the first time," Waller said simply.

Rick shook his head. "Quinn's hardly a creature of habit. The whole reason you wanted her for Task Force X was because she was unpredictable."

"But she is a social animal," Waller reminded him. "When she thought the Joker was dead, she went straight back to you and your team. She didn't want to be left alone—which she will be soon. Her on-again, off-again relationship with the Joker is too unstable to be 'on' for long. They'll be 'off' in less than a week."

"You don't think she's capable of functioning on her own?" Rick questioned skeptically. Harley had seemed plenty competent to him.

"I've no doubt she's capable, but I don't think she finds the prospect desireable," Waller replied. "Out of all Batman's enemies, she's the only one who's interested in making friends. And I've done my homework—her gal pal Poison Ivy is off somewhere in the Amazon rainforest terrorizing cattle ranchers. With the Bat and his new superhero club, none of her fellow criminals are in any position to offer assistance. Trust me. Quinn will return, out of boredom if nothing else."

"I'll take your word for it," Rick said, both unimpressed and unconvinced. He turned to leave.

Waller called him back. "Oh, and Colonel?"

He glanced at her from over his shoulder, one hand on the doorknob.

"I just finished reading the latest intelligence report on Dr. Moone," Waller said off-handedly.

Rick did not respond verbally, but merely acknowledged her statement with a nod and exited her office, even as regret seared through his being.

After the events in Midway City and June had been cleared to leave Task Force X, the Enchantress now gone, she ended her relationship with Rick.

"I'm sorry," she said, her expression wretched and her voice fraught with desperation. "But I can't. I just can't."

"It's fine," Rick rushed to reassure her. "I understand. Really, I do."

And he did. The entirety of June's time at Task Force X had been a waking nightmare for her, and freedom from the Enchantress, from Waller, must have been a relief. He himself hadn't helped the matter; getting involved with one of his operatives under their particular circumstances was not only unprofessional, but colossally stupid. But during their relationship, he had lost all perspective where June was concerned. He had been so eager to prove himself as her knight in shining armor that he had never considered the situation was far too complicated to simply carry her off on a white horse. And his hubris had cost hundreds of lives—civilians, soldiers, and the intelligence agents Waller had executed without a second thought, just to name a few.

Whenever Rick thought back to their time together, his memories were always overwhelmed by self-loathing, wondering how he could have been so stupid, so blind as to think there wouldn't be any consequences for his reckless behavior. Every time, he wondered if June felt the same way, and was torn between hoping she had the self-awareness to realize the mistakes they had made and wishing that she was able to look back fondly on at least a single part of their romance.

June moved on from Task Force X, and hopefully, their relationship as well, leaving to teach at Metropolis University. Of course, Waller had her monitored, and though every once in a while, Rick was tempted to check the reports himself, he never let himself get that far. As it was, he already spent far too much time think about June and berating himself for letting his feelings for her get out of control.

* * *

Life with the team continued; on their very first mission after Harley Quinn escaped from Belle Reve, she found them and finished the fight for them. They were attempting to subdue the A.M.A.Z.O. android, and unexpectedly, she charged in as the calvary, albeit on a motorcycle rather than a horse. One second they were fighting a losing battle in a partially destroyed LexCorp warehouse, and the next, Harley, on a Harley motorcycle, burst in through what remained of the east wall. Wielding what appeared to be a paintball gun, she took aim at the android and fired without a second's hesitation. The resulting impact not only put A.M.A.Z.O. out of commision, but partially melted its metal armor, leading it to collapse into a sizzling heap.

Harley pulled off her helmet, a smirk on her red lips. "I'm baaack!" She sing-songed. Hopping off her bike, she reached for the nearest teammate—Katana—and pulled her against her side in a partial hug. "Y'all miss me?"

"Girl, what the hell are you doing here?" Lawton demanded. "You were free!"

"The hell was that ammo?" Boomerang surveyed what remained of A.M.A.Z.O. admiringly. None of their weapons, not Lawton's guns, Katana's swords, or even Diablo's fire, seemed to have any effect, yet Harley had downed their foe with a single blast.

"I was free, but then I decided you guys needed me more." Harley pushed aside the blade Katana was holding at her throat and twirled over to Lawton, briefly touching her forehead to his, before sashaying over to Rick. "So I whipped up a special recipe of some of Pammy's poisons and Joker venom, and, well, it was a lethal combination."

"Welcome back," Rick said noncommittally.

Harley leaned in close to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Does that mean I get to be back?"

"You'll have to debrief with Waller," Rick warned her. "And since it will ultimately be her decision, I wouldn't get your hopes up too high."

Harley waggled her eyebrows at him, pressing herself up to his chest.. "How 'bout you debrief me, honey? They gave me a bed in my cell again." She shimmied against him. "You could come and visit. Or if you like, we could do it the other way around."

Rick stiffened, shoving her off of him and walking forward, focusing on directing the team. "All right, we need to collect all of the pieces of the android and any other components for duplicates that might be stored here."

"Like we're working in a sodding assembly line," Boomerang grumbled as he experimentally tossed one of his namesake weapons at the dismantled A.M.A.Z.O. With a metallic clang, the boomerang hit the fallen android and then clinked to the floor. Both weapons remained still on the ground.

"Looks like I touched a nerve," Harley muttered to Lawton.

"Ya think?" Lawton shot back.

"Get to work, you two," Rick growled at them before stalking off to examine the the various crates within the warehouse.

* * *

Waller allowed Harley back on the team in a rare display of forgiveness, though Rick suspected her sudden charitability was due to Harley proving her predictions correct more than actual generosity. However, Waller was not entirely taken in by the most wayward of her operatives.

"Watch Quinn," she commanded Rick. "I won't have her make a fool out of me a second time."

And Rick did watch Harley. On missions, during transport, throughout the field exercises, and even while she was back in prison. Hell, the entire reason why Harley had been given a cage while Croc and Lawton had their cells was because of her wild card nature compared to their readily discernable MOs. Waller had wanted her in an atmosphere with more freedom so that her behavior could readily observed and analyzed.

Of course, this assignment wasn't the first time he was charged with monitoring a female operative under his command. Admittedly, the circumstances were very different: whereas June was possessed by an ancient spirit of chaos, Harley was simply a lunatic. Or maybe she wasn't—there was disagreement amongst the various shrinks who had contributed to her psychological profile.

She caught him watching her several times; she would grin as he stared her down unflinchingly, refusing to look away. Usually their eye contact was only broken by interruption, a person or event breaking their focus from each other.

Harley wasn't the only one who noticed Rick's attention.

"Hot girl, isn't she?" Lawton asked him, ambling over to join him. They were pausing to regroup after escaping from behind enemy lines, and Harley was several yards away, carefully reapplying her lipstick.

June hadn't worn much makeup. A touch of eyeliner, maybe a hint of blush. Of course, given her situation, appearance probably wouldn't have ranked at the top of her concerns. Not every woman had the same priorities as Harley and needed to look their best during a life-or-death scenario.

Rick shrugged. "If you say so."

"Not just hot," Lawton went on. "Drop dead beautiful."

Rick scoffed. "What are you trying to do? Play team matchmaker?"

Lawton chuckled. "So you were checking her out, then. Not that I blame you. She's worth looking at."

Unamused, Rick glared at him. "What's your angle, Lawton?"

Lawton held up a placating hand. "I just like to know the score, that's all. What yours?"

"Waller may have reaccepted Quinn, but I'm still questioning her return to the team," Rick informed him, keeping his tone level and professional as he discussed Harley. His gaze drifted back over to her. "The only thing about her that interests me is her motive."

As if she sensed his gaze, Harley snapped her mirror compact shut and raised her head to meet his gaze directly, sending him a wicked smirk that spoke of chaos to come.

June had never smiled like that. Her expressions were usually measured, soft and gentle, like the rest of her. She didn't have Harley's self-satisfaction, her aggression.

Once Rick found himself comparing Harley to June, he knew he was in trouble. But he also knew that he had learned from past mistakes. He would not be repeating the same professional errors.

He would make sure of it.

Nevertheless, Harley sashayed up next to him as they were walking back to the helicopters, her bat slung across her shoulders and her arms tossed over either end. While he ignored her, he could feel her glancing at him every few steps, and it wasn't long before she was casually bumping up against him every couple of paces.

"You want something, Quinn?" he demanded.

"Heh." Harley's lips morphed into a self-satisfied smirk, and she leaned in closer to him, her mouth just next to his ear. "I just wanted put you on notice that I noticed you noticing me." She pulled back from him, meeting his hard stare easily.

"You finished?" Rick asked her, entirely unimpressed.

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she deliberately swung her hips into his, ignoring the venomous look he shot her. "Well, also . . . you should know that when you were noticing me, I noticed you, too."

With that, Harley sauntered ahead of him, leaving Rick glaring after her in exasperation.

* * *

 **Note:** Harley's "noticing" line is borrowed from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, which starred Will Smith, who plays Deadshot in Suicide Squad.


	2. Chapter 2

Urgency surging through his veins, Rick impatiently activated the handprint and retina scanners that would grant him access to the generic suburban McMansion. He only knew about this safe house because Waller had told him in case he ever needed to bring her there. She would probably have his head for bringing a Task Force X member here, but her reaction was far from his top concern at the moment.

The locks retracted, allowing him entry, and then slid into place once more as he strode rapidly over the threshold and down the hall to the living room. Harley was lying on the sofa where he had placed her before, her eyes closed and her form unmoving but for the rise and fall of her chest. It was an unusual sight, and undoubtedly an indication of her serious injury. Her default mode was in motion, be it swaggering, backflipping, or vaulting, and it was almost unnerving to see her still. Yet here she was, like a fairy tale princess trapped in a deep sleep by a wicked witch's curse, who just happened to have hastily bandaged gunshot wounds and a bloodstained baseball bat by her side.

He hadn't wanted to leave her, but her condition—four bullets straight into the stomach—necessitated medical supplies that even the house's extensive first aid kit didn't contain. When Waller raised the issue of the house with him, he'd have to inform her of the oversight.

Reaching out and taking her pulse, Rick found it to be unexpectedly strong. Well, that was heartening, even if he wasn't entirely surprised; if nothing else, Harley was a fighter. He tried not to think of the similarities between Harley's current state and the image the Enchantress had forced into in his mind of June dying in a hospital bed.

Moving swiftly, Rick carefully removed one sheet of bandages at a time, readying the disinfectant and preparing a moist pad of gauze to press against the wound. To his astonishment, when he finally unpeeled the last bandage, her skin was completely intact beneath it, the only marks some red and purple bruising. Even as he watched, the discoloration seemed to ebb away before his eyes.

Dumbstruck, Rick glanced up at Harley's face as if asking for an explanation, and was startled to find her awake and aware, gazing back at him.

"Looks like I took away your opportunity to play doctor, huh?" She smirked, but her voice rasped in her throat.

Rick shook his head, preparing an IV. "I take it this is some weird metahuman thing, or something like that?"

Harley shrugged, sitting up painstakingly. Rick noticed and moved to help her.

"Thanks," she said, rummaging in the pockets of her Gotham Rogues jacket that served as a replacement for the one that read "Property of the Joker." The wardrobe switch must have occurred sometime after she broke out of Belle Reve, and Rick had no doubt it went a long way to explain she had willingly returned to the team not long after her escape.

Extracting a compact mirror and lipstick, Harley meticulously reapplied the color to her lips, as Rick watched, half-impatient, half-bemused, the IV waiting in his hands.

June hadn't ever worn much makeup. Some eyeliner, maybe a touch of blush. Of course, given the nightmarish situation she had been trapped in, she had far more serious concerns than cosmetics.

And right now, so did he. Rick shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. Even after ending their relationship and leaving, June was never far from his mind.

The moment Harley stowed the objects back in her pocket, Rick grabbed one of her wrists and inserted the IV needle, ignoring the reflexive bat from Harley's other hand.

"I also brought blood of your type," he informed her. "But I don't know you'll actually need it, now that you're somehow no longer wounded." He made his skepticism clear in his tone.

"You're right. I won't need it," Harley told him cheerfully. "But don't worry. It's the thought that counts." Her eyes landed on the other item he had picked up for her. "Oh, a smoothie! Is that for me?"

Rick sighed, reaching over to coffee table to hand it to her, but then hesitating. "Should you really have this? Victims of abdominal gunshot wounds aren't supposed to eat or drink for a few days afterwards." Actually, it had been a poor decision to buy it for her in the first place, but he hadn't been thinking straight. He had only remembered that Harley had difficulty with solid foods due to the amount tube feeding she endured at the hands of Grimes. And since the safe house didn't seem to have a blender, his rationale was that she would need some sort of sustenance, not fully considering that she wouldn't be able to eat for at least a day.

"Good thing I don't have any gunshot wounds, then," Harley said. Her hand darted into her pocket once more, extracting four misshapen slugs. "See? I pulled them out myself."

God, Waller was probably going to send him the cleaning bill for the couch once she saw the state it was in. "You're going to need to explain some of this," Rick said, frowning, but giving her the smoothie.

Harley took a sip and grinned. "Mmm, orange and vanilla. Tastes like a creamsicle."

"The gunshot wounds, Quinn," he reminded her, but he wasn't irritated. Actually, it was a welcome change to see Harley take satisfaction in something—anything—other than antagonizing her teammates.

"Sure. Riddle me this first, though. Where are we?"

"Some place in suburbia that's supposed to be a safe house." Rick glanced at their surroundings critically. "It could use a whole lot of improvements, though."

"Suburbia?" Harley set down her drink, stretching her arms over her head. "Funny. That's where our story begins. Back when I escaped and things went south with me and the Joker—"

The Joker , Rick observed. Not Puddin' or Mistah J .

"—I went to hang out with my friend Pammy in Paradise Meadows. The neighborhood is set on a toxic waste dump, so she gave me an injection of science stuff to give me immunity. But the science didn't just do that—it also gave me immunity to all poisons, increased my healing, gave me more endurance and agility, and decreased my vulnerability. So, here I am, A-okay." Harley sipped from her smoothie once more.

"So, Poison Ivy gave you a vial of 'science' that lets you get shot multiple times and be perfectly fine later on?" Rick asked skeptically.

"Is it so hard to believe?" Harley arched an eyebrow at him. "You're quite the doubting Thomas for someone whose girlfriend was possessed by a demon. How is June, by the way? How does she like teaching at Metropolis University? You never talk about her now that she's left."

"Why would I?" Rick asked gruffly, focusing on reorganizing the medical supplies. "This is a military unit, not a therapy group."

"Yes, but I'm a psychiatrist. I can listen." Harley leaned forward eagerly, going into shrink mode now that she had a brain to pick. "I've had my fair share of romantic entanglements gone wrong, you know. You're not alone."

Rick snorted. "Yeah, you're just the paragon of understanding and empathy. I'm some wounded soul in need of rescue, and you're the good doctor, isn't that right?"

"You want me to prove it? Fine." Harley began ticking items off her fingers. "First, there was Guy. He was my first boyfriend. I met him at a gymnastics meet. He passed away right before I got my M.D.. It was terrible, and so sad." Her voice was surprisingly sincere.

Guy Kopski. He had been Quinn's boyfriend throughout grad school, and her only significant romantic liaison previous to the Joker. Their relationship had ended in tragedy, when Kopski inexplicably murdered a homeless man shortly before killing himself. The events had shocked everyone who had known him and did not match Kopski's reputation as easygoing and friendly. The various shrinks who contributed to Harley's file suspected the loss of Kopski just before she began work at Arkham Asylum had made her vulnerable to the Joker's manipulations. For his part, Rick wasn't sure. Given that the others Harley dated were criminals, it was possible she was simply attracted to violence.

"Of course, there's Pammy," Harley went on. "I love that girl, but she's married to the job. We ended things a few weeks ago when she ran off to protect plants in the rainforest. I've never been much of one for camping. Call me spoiled, but I like my creature comforts, and I'm not going to live in a treehouse in some sweltering jungle just to make my better half happy. We're still friends, though."

Poison Ivy, another one of Batman's villains. She and Harley had become involved during an "off" period of Harley and Joker's on-again, off-again relationship. For several weeks, they had pillaged the city to the point that the newspapers christened them "Gotham's Queens of Crime."

"And of course, the Joker." Harley's voice hardened, and Rick once again noted the absence of any pet name. "He lied to me. Betrayed me. And thinking about what a fool he made outta me makes me want to strangle somebody." Her hands twisted in the air, as if she was imagining wringing the Joker's neck. "But don't worry. He got what was coming to him."

He paused at that remark. The Joker hadn't been seen since Harley rejoined them nearly a month ago. Rick had assumed that the Bat either had him imprisoned somewhere, or that he was off sulking because Harley had broken up with him.

"You killed him?" Rick asked. While he hadn't anticipated the revelation, he wasn't entirely taken aback. After all, the reason Waller wanted Harley for the team was because she was unpredictable.

"I found out he lied to me." Harley's words left her mouth in a hiss of anger. "He told that he hadn't killed that one kid—Bluejay, or whatever the hell his name was—the one that helped Bats—"

"Robin," Rick volunteered, wondering where Harley's story was going. Harley had claimed to be responsible for killing Robin, but the very idea was ludicrous. Robin had been dead long before she had ever set foot in Arkham.

Harley waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, that might have been it. Joker always told me Bats framed him for that, so I took the blame. I said I was the one who killed him, 'cause I wanted Bats to lay off Mista—" she caught herself before fully speaking the endearment "—Joker. But then I found out he lied." She shook her head grimly, pointing at Rick with her baseball bat for emphasis. "No one tricks me and gets away with it. Much less someone who kills kids."

"You've got your standards," Rick observed. Thinking back to Harley's list of crimes, he recalled that she rarely killed unless cornered and she had never once harmed a child. Though the distinctions might have seemed negligible, it was evidence that Harley took no pleasure in murder, unlike the Joker, who had been a sadist.

"Everyone does, at some point," Harley replied matter-of-factly. "I'll own everything I've done, and I was willing to own what I thought was a frame-up for the Joker, but his actual crime? No thanks. Ivy and I wrapped him up in that jacket of mine and then buried him in Paradise Meadows. We figured the ground couldn't get anymore polluted."

Rick started transferring some of the first aid supplies to his pack. They would have to be on the move again soon. "Good riddance. Would it be too sappy of me if I told you I was proud to be your commanding officer?"

"Not at all," Harley said sweetly, rising from the couch and joining him at the other side of the coffee table.

Rising, Rick watched her approach, half-wary, half-anticipatory. She wasn't moving with her usual speed, always half a step behind where she normally have been. It seemed that her injuries, or perhaps her rapid recovery, had left her drained despite her metahuman enhancements.

When Harley wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn't object or push her away, though he was fully aware that he should have. For a moment, they simply held gazes, staring at each other unflinchingly, until she brought her lips to his in a long, deep kiss. For several moments, they embraced passionately, until Rick's brain kicked in and he wrenched himself away.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded angrily.

Harley scoffed, retrieving her smoothie once more. "Oh, please. Like you were complaining."

"I—you—" Rick struggled to form a coherent sentence. "You tell me about murdering your boyfriend. You bring up my ex and then give me all these sob stories about how woe is you and none of your relationships work out, and then you shove your tongue down my throat? What the fuck is your deal?"

"I wanted to make a point," Harley informed him, unruffled. "Yes, you faced a difficult end to a trying relationship. But I've gone through several, and I'm still here. And besides," a smirk played at the edge of her mouth, "if I hadn't made the first move, you never would have."

Rick went rigid as he absorbed Harley's words, the implication inducing tension to every muscle of his body. "What are you saying? That I wanted you to—"

"Honey, of course you did." Harley finished the last of her smoothie. "Otherwise, what was this about?" She rattled the empty container for effect. "You think about me. You care about me."

"It's smoothie, not a proposal of marriage," Rick said tersely. God, buying that concoction for her had been a major mistake.

"No, but I see you looking at me when you think I won't notice, so I think you'd like to propose something ." She sent him a shrewd look. "Is June the issue here? You don't want another girlfriend after she's gone? Newsflash: she ain't coming back."

"June is not up for discussion," Rick growled. Frustration and irritation surged through him, partially because he knew Harley was right: a piece of him was still hung up on June, and he was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop longing for her.

Harley shrugged, but her demeanor changed as she once again walked over to Rick, her flippance fading, replaced by an uncommon gentleness he had never previously seen her display. "Frankly, I could use some TLC at the moment. And I'm sure you could, too. So why not give me a chance, at least?" She put her arms around him again, leaning in close, her chest pressing against his shoulder.

Rick gritted his teeth. He knew he should stop her then and there. He knew that he would be an idiot to become involved with another one of his operatives after the disaster with June. And who was to say Harley's sudden attention wasn't just another one of Waller's schemes to trap him?

But he didn't want it to be, and that knowledge shook him. If he were honest, he wished that the reason for the kiss was because Harley desired him, not for any kind of motive. He enjoyed feeling the heat of her body, the contours of her form. The skin on her face looked soft and smooth, and part of him was tempted to reach out and run a finger along her jawline and trace over her lips.

Opening his mouth, Rick told himself he was going to reject her, to make sure this scenario never again repeated itself, but instead, a question left his lips. "What if I say yes? What do you get from being with me?"

Harley spoke into his ear, her breath tickling her skin. "I saw how you were with June. I saw how much you cared about her, how much it hurt when you thought she had died. I want that kind of love for myself. For someone to care about me so deeply that even if they hurt me, I know for certain that they still love me without even stopping to question it."

"That sounds less like you want love and more like you want surrender," Rick commented, trying to determine her sincerity. He still suspected she might be working an angle.

She shifted around so she was in front of him yet again. "It's devotion. And I want it. I want you to love me the way you loved June. Look, I know my place. I'm the villain of the story, not the fairy tale princess who gets a happy ending. But if I can play dress-up and score that knight in shining armor, even if only for a few minutes, well, I'm not going to turn down the chance. I saw how much June mattered to you, how she was your main priority, the drive for your actions. Now, I think it should be my turn."

"That's what you want? To be June's replacement?" Rick was startled by notion, but he wasn't as opposed to it as he would have liked to be.

Harley chuckled softly. "No. You're the one who's hung up on June, Flag. I just want your emotion, to be number one in your life. Think of it as a tradeoff, a bargain. You get a distraction from your lost lady love. And I get to be with a person who prioritizes me for a change."

A realization dawned on Rick. "You don't want me at all," he challenged. "You're just looking for another broken man to fix, just like you saw with the Joker. I'm a project to you, something to bolster your ego if not your resume."

"Well, if all I'm trying to do is fix you, then you don't have anything to worry about," Harley returned evenly.

Rick looked away. "Goddammit."

The word emerged more as a sigh than a curse. Harley was right. He did want her, and that pissed him off, that he didn't have enough self-control to avoid emotions for his subordinates, even after the fiasco with June. But what really got him going was that he couldn't even say what he felt for her—was it lust, genuine affection, or just transference of his remaining feelings for June? He had no idea, and it couldn't be good that by the second, the origin of his emotions where Harley concerned him less and less.

There were a million and one reasons for him to reject Harley, and he should have had the strength, the discipline, the professionalism to go through with it. But if he did, then all of those qualities were overwhelmed by the two other factors currently dominating his mind: loneliness and weariness.

He was sick of waiting for June to arrive back at their shared quarters, only for her never to walk through the door. He was tired of rolling over in bed, expecting to find June beside him but only encountering empty space. And most of all, he couldn't stand the isolation brought on by turning to speak with her, to share a joke, to exchange a kiss, even to make some wiseass remark, only to realize she was no longer there.

"Look at me," Harley breathed, the blue in her eyes gleaming like plashes of glacial ice. "Look at me and tell me that you don't want me. Send me away."

He couldn't. Even if it was just because he was still hurting from his breakup with June, he couldn't contain his desire for Harley. There were no excuses; he should have known better from June and he should have known better before June. But what the hell? He had already broken the rules once.

Pulling Harley forward, he kissed her, and could sense the smile on her lips as he did. He kissed her long and hard and good, and would have kept kissing her if his comm hadn't beeped.

"Flag, this is Katana. I've commandeered a helicopter. Croc and Boomerang are with me, and we're going to pick up Diablo and Deadshot now. We provide transport to you, too, if you send us your coordinates."

"Got it," Rick replied. He glanced down at Harley, who wore a victorious smirk. "Wipe that smile off your face. We still have a mission." Realizing his words might seem overly harsh, he debated with himself, then added reluctantly, "If we're doing this, then we're in the field together, I'm your commanding officer, and you're my subordinate. During missions, that's all we are to each other. Understood?"

"Whatever you say, Flag." Harley looped his arm through his as they made their way to the door. "Whatever you say."


	3. Chapter 3

After the rush faded and sex was over, Harley pulled away from him. Though she could never be described as snuggly, she had no issue invading others' personal space in daily life. Rick was perplexed as to why she seemed reluctant to engage in any type prolonged romantic contact.

"You're awfully skittish considering you're the one who suggested this relationship in the first place," Rick observed, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hmph." Harley rolled over to face him. "What's the matter? Was June a cuddler? Do you miss holding her against you, feeling her womanly curves?"

For the first time in the weeks since June's departure, Rick did not feel a rush of regret at the mention of her name. The realization at once startled him and heartened him, and he did not respond to Harley's jibe.

Harley rose from the bed, the light gleaming on her platinum blonde hair. "She was just the type to trace her fingers down your chest, asking about your scars," she went on, pulling on the turquoise silk robe that had been a gift from Rick. "That's why you fell for her as hard as you did, I bet. Here was this sweet, gentle damsel in distress who needed to be saved from herself. She wore glasses, but that only made her approachable to you, not ugly. She probably sent your down-home soldier heart racing the moment you met. You couldn't wait to rescue her and prove yourself. Am I right?"

Wrenching open his mouth to rebut Harley's all too accurate analysis, he was distracted when her words brought a change in her appearance to his attention.

Rick frowned. "Your scars are gone. So are your tattoos." When the heart had vanished from beneath her right eye in the weeks since he had seen her, he had at first assumed it had simply been makeup all along. Now it seemed like there was another reason entirely.

Harley grimaced. "I know, right? There were perks to getting my healing increased, but it had the downside of erasing all my ink. Not so upset about the scars, though—sometimes they caused me trouble when I was trying to avoid attention."

"Did you have a lot?" Rick asked. Harley didn't often talk about herself in any meaningful way; it was always a trick to make herself look relatable, to gain the confidence of her partner in conversation. Even when she was technically telling the truth, she was putting on a mask to disguise an ulterior motive. He suspected that she had perfected this technique years ago, back when she was still a psych student.

"Eh." Harley shrugged, lying back down on the bed, but on top of the covers. "You tangle with the Bat often enough, you'll get a few marks on you. Pammy used to call him a recurrent tumor. Clever girl, Pammy. I don't really hold it against Bats, though—we're all just trying to do our jobs."

'Jobs.' Well, that was one way to described wreaking havoc and destruction all across Gotham and wherever else she went.

"You loved Pammy? Poison Ivy?" Rick studied Harley, wondering if she would play off the question entirely or devise some way to answer, but twist it to be more about himself than her.

She scoffed. "Of course I did. And you know it. No way my long and varied history with Pammy ain't included my file."

"But you left her," Rick pointed out.

"Kind of like how June left you, isn't it?" Harley asked with a smirk. "It's the age-old adage, Flag: if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever."

"But Poison Ivy didn't let you go," Rick realized. "You were letting her go."

The soft lines of Harley's face hardened, and her tone cooled slightly. "Pammy came back when I asked her. I'd just killed the Joker, but when I contacted her, she released a few of her plant clones into the Amazon to continue her work, and then flew straight back to help me."

"But she left again," Rick guessed.

"She has her own life, and it's separate from mine." Harley's voice took on a practiced indifference. "Saving the trees is her passion. I would never keep her from it. Besides, I know she would never give it up, and that she would resent me for asking."

"Being a criminal is a job for you, but being an eco terrorist is a life for her." Rick eyed Harley skeptically. "Next you'll be telling me one day you just want to give up villainy and settle down with a family."

Harley lounged back. "I know I'm one hell of a broad, Flag, but I'm not going to be able crush people's skulls with a baseball bat forever. What's wrong with retiring to have a family one day?"

"You really thought you could start a family with Poison Ivy or the Joker?" Rick questioned. The idea struck him as ridiculous; the Joker had obviously been an unstable psychopath and Poison Ivy prized vegetation over human life. How Harley thought either would make a reliable spouse or partner was beyond him—then again, so were most aspects of Harley's personality. But Katana had relayed Harley's conversation with Diablo in the Midway City bar to him, including her scorn for the idea supervillains could one day have normal lives.

"Well, part of the problem was that I knew I couldn't." The novice would have mistaken Harley's tone for conversational, but Rick could detect the slightest hint of irritation that crept in. "The Joker was always far more of a fighter than a lover—he paid more attention to Bats than he ever did to me. And then once he killed Bluejay—"

"Robin," Rick corrected.

"Whatever." Harley waved a hand dismissively. "I knew then I wouldn't ever be able to trust him around children, but then I'd always suspected that, anyway. And Pammy always told me she wanted a family, but she was never quite ready to settle down. I knew that I would never be able to tear her away from her rainforests, and that if I ever did, she would resent me for it. If we ever tried to have a family, we'd just end up hating each other. I would hate her for never being around, and she would hate me for always nagging at her. Better we separated and remained friends."

"She could use her plant clones, either for parenting or eco terrorism," Rick suggested.

"Either way would be too impersonal." Harley sighed. "I'd want the real Pammy to be with me, and the real Pammy would be out in the jungle." A heartbroken expression crossed her face. "I just wish we could have made things work between us." She looked away, but Rick didn't miss the glisten of tears in her eyes.

Harley's earlier words regarding June drifted back into Rick's mind. _"Sweet, gentle damsel in distress who needed to be saved . . . and you couldn't wait to rescue her and prove yourself."_

So this was Harley's soft sell. Strike up a relationship with him, mention her past loves a few times, and then use her breakups as a sob story to garner sympathy from him. She was trying to con him into believing she was another woman in need of rescue, all the while bringing up his failed relationship with June to remind him of the differences between June and herself, in an attempt to convince him he really wasn't making the same mistake.

Fine, then. He would play her little game for now, until he could figure out exactly what she wanted.

"Here," Rick said, reaching for Harley and gathering her into his arms. He tried to make his tone gentle but also make the effort known, so he would seem realistically awkward and at a loss for how to comfort her. "If I know one thing for sure, it's romantic relationships gone wrong." Bringing the conversation away from her and toward himself would make it seem like he had fallen for her act, he reasoned.

She chuckled at his remark. With her head tucked against his neck, he could simultaneously feel the vibrations of her laugh and the hot tears that dripped down her face onto his chest. He held her until she stopped crying, and then laid her down on the bed, wrapping his arms around her, unsurprised but wary when she returned the gesture. To seal Harley's conviction that she had successfully tricked him, Rick placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and drew her close.

Long after Harley was asleep, Rick remained awake, other snippets of their conversation rattling around in his mind.

 _"If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever."_

Harley had escaped from Belle Reve, but she had returned, despite freedom being hers. She didn't even have the Joker to worry about anymore. And yet, here she was, with him and part of Task Force X once more.

Glancing at the woman who was sleeping beside him, her face deceptively serene, Rick wondered what that meant, if anything.


End file.
